Dad and my sister Alix and I are talking to Jack Holt in Putney. Alix and I have finally hit the wall about Not Having A Boat, so we have scraped up some money — more from Dad, of course — and chosen an Enterprise. Bermuda rig, 13’3”, bright blue sails. Arthur Ransome, holidays always at St. Mawes, rented One Designs, have brought us here. Tamarisk, E 8819, is to be stylishly varnished plywood, not painted, with stainless steel rigging, (Dad being super-cautious as usual). Trailer, launching trolley, two sets of sails — cruising and racing — it added up.
We sailed her on Wraysbury Lake near Taplow and holidays in St. Mawes. Alix took her to Cambridge and sailed with her friend Elaine, both Cambridge Blues in other dinghies. Alix and I raced in Falmouth Week, usually towards the back of the class. Camped at Waterloo Farm, caught a conger eel off St. Mawes quay, dried out by the Agas of Mrs Colson and Mrs Tracey. I remember being hit by a squall in the middle of a grey August Carrick Roads. “Let the jib GO!” shouts Alix at the helm. Of course I was too late and over we went. Lost a shoe. Never forgotten that.
Then came husbands and children, one of us in Ireland, the other in America. We still managed an occasional family trip to Cornwall. One rather brisk Easter holiday I remember watching my nephew Erik’s knees turning blue before my eyes. A big lad, just out of the US Navy. “I’ve never been so cold in all my life,” he said.
Sailing back from Falmouth to St. Mawes the children and I found ourselves off the Castle in a dead calm and a falling tide. Luckily my son had big shoes, one to bail and the other to paddle. No help from land. “The tide will bring them home,” says Mum confidently. She never could understand the bumped shins, the wet clothes, the real rush of a following wind when Tamarisk lifts into a plane. (One big regret I have is not being around when spinnakers were permitted.)
But age and distance caught up with me. Alix, living now in St. Austell, sailed Tamarisk with her two daughters. Good friend Elaine gave the boat a make-over. Alas the hull was too damaged to re-do the original varnish and it had to be replaced by a dark blue paint. Then, I think Alix and I both hit another wall — not nimble and bendy enough for dinghy sailing. Tamarisk, now solely my responsibility, was permanently berthed in Elaine’s barns. Until even kind, good natured Elaine put her foot down. We went out to have a look. The hull is still fine, but the wooden mast has acquired a dangerous twist, the famous stainless steel rigging is rotten, sails missing, trailer tyres shredded. Still, I can’t give up.
Enter Cedric Thomas — Ajax sailor, Messack farmer, sharpest man on the Roseland peninsula, father of Lindsey (more later), with another barn and kind enough to offer Tamarisk shelter. She stays there for a few years and then even Cedric’s patience is seriously exhausted. I’ve got to do something.
My friend Dina suggests I donate Tamarisk to her local project The Roseland Youth Sailing Trust. They do a great job introducing local Cornish school kids to dinghy sailing. The sale of Tamarisk could help the funds. So Lindsey volunteers to advertise. Middle-aged man comes to look, definitely wants her, coming back with a trailer. Time ticks by and Linds. finally calls to hear that our buyer has sadly died. Oh dear, not a good start. Re-advertise. Next man, looking for a project, loves her, will be back with a trailer. More time, Linds. calls and gets the man’s wife. He has been absolutely forbidden from taking on projects like this. Oops.
It’s October 2019, and a woman from North Cornwall calls, yes please, sending a lorry tomorrow. Linds. asks what is Tamarisk’s future? “She’s going to be the centrepiece of our Guy Fawkes bonfire next week.” Oh my goodness. Linds. consults with Dina and they agree they have to do it (steam coming out of Cedric’s ears by now) and not tell Kate. (Hmm). Linds. accepts and it’s done. “We’ll pick her up tomorrow.” Tomorrow comes and goes, no lorry, and furious, really, really exasperated, Linds. notices for the first time another message on her phone and calls back. It’s Colette Pearce from Charlestown Harbour, just up the road.
Charlestown Harbour is a tiny, beautiful slit of a harbour on the South Cornish coast. Built by Charles Rashleigh for the china clay trade in the seventeenth century. It’s a privately owned UNESCO World Heritage Site, magically special. We’ve all seen it in lots of Cornish movies and TV like Poldark.
Colette wants Tamarisk as a restoration project, good practice for their carpenter apprentices. Home and safe, she will join their collection of boats, available for filming, on show, ready for a whole new life. How could anything be better?
And, yes, the lorry came.
Thanks beyond measure to Elaine, Cedric, Dina, Lindsey and Colette for launching Tamarisk into her next chapter.